Reflections and Thoughts

The eleventh presentation of "Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices" was yesterday, and tonight I am reflecting on that, and on so many other things. I am grateful to everyone who turned out for this event, both returning friends and supporters and also new people too. Thank you for wanting to learn more about these families. Thank you for wanting to help them survive. Thank you for becoming involved in efforts to end the genocide. 

Prior to the presentation, I spent many hours updating it, and I changed a great deal from previous ones, with new words, photos, and videos from almost all of the featured families, including a very special video one of my friends made specifically for this presentation, where he spoke to us directly. His words affected all of us, and it was almost as though he was there with us. 

He spoke about not being able to trust the ceasefire. He spoke about how everyone was shattered. He spoke about how the ceasefire could not bring back his loved ones, his home, his things, his books, his life. He shared his feelings, thoughts, insights and words with us so generously. I carried the feeling of this with me through the rest of the evening, into the night. I have felt the presence of what he gave to us all day today. I will carry it with me tomorrow. 

I am always so grateful to be able to speak about these families, my friends who I care about so deeply, to bring them closer to my local community, to see the transformations that come into being once people feel connected  to them and the distance of time and space is collapsed. I am grateful and honored and moved. And I am also always very very tired afterwards. It takes me a day to recover. I have some chronic health conditions that I do my best to manage, and I always know the day after a presentation will be a day of recovery, where it is difficult to do many things.

Planning ahead based on this knowledge and past experience, I let myself sleep longer than usual this morning. When I finally awoke and checked my phone, there was this message from another one of my dear friends: "They are bombing all around us. The world is unfair, my love." And I felt my heart break into a million pieces. 

I spent part of the intro to yesterday's presentation talking about disability justice, media literacy, and the questions we should be asking when we encounter information from our mainstream media sources here in the U.S. Today's headlines and framing in American media gives us ample examples of how we can apply the things I spoke about yesterday. There is so much I could say about this, about the context of constant dehumanization and anti-Palestinian racism that is so pervasive in our media and our institutions–the constant biased framing and misappropriation of language that seeks to justify the continuation of efforts to annihilate the Palestinian people, and how the media upholds this, and how this supports the ongoing genocide--and this is a subject I will return to in more depth with more resources later. 

But for now, in my heartsick despondency, I will keep my focus on the families who have given us so much, and thank you again for your support, and ask you again to please not let it waver. We must do more to end the genocide. And we must do everything we can to help people survive. I have said these exact words countless times. And I know I will repeat them again. And I look forward to the day when they are no longer needed. 

Archives Month, Libraries, Scholasticide, & 'Rise Up for Gaza' Event

 October is American Archives Month, and the library where I work is hosting an upcoming Open House event at the Archives Building. Later this week, I will be on campus finishing a display to highlight this theme and the upcoming event. And of course, whenever I am at work inside the library building, or whenever I am working on promotions for these programs and events, I can't help but think of Gaza and Palestine, and the relentless Israeli attacks on Palestinian libraries, schools, universities, archives, museums, and cultural heritage sites. 

To quote the Society for American Archivists: 

"American Archives Month is a time to focus on the importance of records of enduring value and to enhance public recognition for the people and programs that are responsible for maintaining our communities’ vital historical records."

This incongruity and disconnect pains me, as does everything about this genocide, especially tonight on the eve of the two-year anniversary of when its acceleration began. I continue to carry Gaza and Palestine in my heart and mind no matter what I am doing. 

In honor of Palestine, of survival, of 'Archives Month,' of cultural heritage, of everything every Palestinian person is doing to keep going and try to survive as we collectively keep trying to end the genocide and also the violent and illegal siege and occupation, I have shared a slideshow video I created for the recent Bookshare Giveaway fundraising event, which features some of the words and images from educators, writers, and book-rescuers in Gaza, as well as information about the libraries, universities, and cultural heritage sites that have come under attack as part of this scholasticide. 

Two of the featured contributors are dear friends and also the primary points of contact for two of the 'eight families.' The other two featured contributors are also very dear and important to me, and it was really through my connections to them and because of all that they generously shared that I developed the relationships I now have with the families to whom I am closest. And my heart will be forever grateful to them, for this, and for so much more. I hope you will take a look at these slides and that they will help you understand how we are connected to Gaza, and how we must do everything we can to support those who are trying to survive.

In closing, for those of you who are in Bellingham, I hope to see you at the 'Rise up for Gaza' rally and march at 5pm tomorrow, October 7, beginning at the Farmers Market and ending at the Maritime Heritage Park. 

Yanis, Leila, Mahdi & Family - Souls of Recognition

Recently, a friend told me about a belief from her religious faith that resonated with me. She explained this belief is that we are born into our lives already connected to people who we became separated from, and that at some point when we are most in need of finding each other, God helps bring us back together. And when we see them, when we meet, it is as though we recognize each other–it is as though we have known each other all along. What she shared struck a chord with me because I have experienced this phenomenon with the families in Gaza who I am closest to, in particular with my friend Yanis and his family.

 
I still remember the first voice note I ever received from Yanis’ wife, Leila. It came to me when I was having a very difficult time, at the exact moment when I was struggling the most. There was something so familiar about her voice, so powerful in hearing her words–something shifted, inside of me. It was as though for just a moment, we were in the same place, connected by something invisible yet tangible. I felt a flash of recognition, a boost of support, as though she had taken my hand and looked into my eyes and made our hearts smile in unison. Since then, this feeling has only grown stronger. I feel a deep and abiding kinship, friendship, and loyalty to both Yanis and Leila, and by extension, their families. My connection to them has been life-changing and profound, and I am deeply honored to write this in an attempt to introduce you to them today.

Yanis and his wife are parents to their beautiful son Mahdi, and their family also includes Yanis’ younger brothers, his mother, and more family members through their extended families on both sides. Yanis has also been committed to helping provide for his mother and his siblings from a young age when his father was killed during the bombing of their house by Israeli Occupation Forces in 2014. Every member of Yanis’ family has lost friends, loved ones, and more members of their extended families these past two years; their networks of care and responsibility have also expanded as they try to deal with both individual and collective losses and grief. It has not been easy, and in fact, things have only grown harder. But through it all, this family keeps going, keeps trying, and keeps sending love to those around them.

My messages to them frequently begin with the greeting, “Hello, Beautiful Family,” because that is what they are to me–a family that is beautiful in every way, despite the hardship and suffering they have been forced to endure. Every day they try to find a way to create moments of joy for sweet Mahdi, who I adore and wish could have every happiness.

I once wrote that Mahdi has a smile that spreads joy and love, a smile that lights up the world and makes you believe that anything is possible. And I can’t help but credit his parents with being the birthplace of this smile. Because while Mahdi’s smile belongs to him, and although he generously shares it with us, it is because of everything his parents are doing, even in the midst of so much hardship and danger, that sweet Mahdi smiles. And the love Yanis and Leila have for their son is also as beautiful as Mahdi’s smile.

Yanis’ own words about Mahdi express his deep love for him, as he explains, 

“As for my only child, he is the accent of my heart, and the fulfilment of my dream of becoming a father. But my child suffers from a birth defect in the heart, and needs special care for that, and this is what hurts my heart the most in this sorrowful war. I suffer with every breath when my child does not get his milk, diapers, and his most basic rights, like the rest of the children. By the way, Mahdi loves bananas and loves to play cars, and he also loves all animals.”

Love and compassion are at the core of Yanis’ nature, and this is evident not just in how he cares for his family, but also how his kind heart responds to others around him, often those who need help. His compassion is evident in how he tries to offer support to others in need, and also in the friendship he has given to me. He and Leila have shown me remarkable kindness and generosity, and they even include me in the small celebratory moments they keep trying to create within their lives, in spite of the many dangers and constraints imposed upon them by the genocide.

Before October 2023, this family had been building a beautiful life for themselves, even within the limitations caused by the occupation. They had created a world of shining light and beauty, and even though it may feel as though the darkness of what has since happened has taken this all away, this light and beauty still remain. Because this family carries this world of light and beauty within them. It is in their nature. It is in their commitment. And it is evident in their love for each other. I pray for the day when they will have safety, comfort, and opportunity to again create the lives they want and deserve. And I am determined to be here for them in every way I can be, now and for the rest of my life.

And one way I am doing this is by trying to bring them closer to you, to ask you to help them too. Our sustained support helps get them closer to the future they deserve, helps them survive the dangers that are still present now.

For those of you reading this who are in the Bellingham area, you have two upcoming opportunities to participate in local events that will support this sweet family, the first one being a fundraiser yoga class benefit on Friday, October 3, 2025 at 6pm at Flux Power Yoga, with donations from this class going towards Yanis and his family; and the second will be during the next  "Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices” presentation, which will be at 3:30 pm on Saturday, October 18, 2025 at the Bellingham Public Library. (This event is not sponsored by the Bellingham Public Library).

I hope to see you at either or both of those events! And I thank you for reading this, and for supporting this family however you can.